I'm a busy panel moderator (and today and tomorrow at this event) so here's a not-so-instant replay of a piece I posted here on 6/16/10…
"When do you sleep?" is an oft-asked question in my e-mailbox. It comes from folks who notice the timestamps on my posts here and on my Twitter and Facebook activity. I average about five hours a night, which is down a bit from a few years ago when I was heavier, and way down from about twenty years ago, before I was diagnosed with Sleep Apnea and began sleeping with a CPAP mask strapped on my puss.
Five now seems to do it for me but about once every two weeks, I lie down for a quick nap and wake up many hours later. That happened to me last night, plunging me into a state of deep hibernation. I should have known this would happen. At the moment, I have no immediate deadline. I have things due next week but at the moment, no script that absolutely has to be done tomorrow. That's usually when my body goes all Rip Van Winkle on me.
But as I get older, I increasingly find my need to sleep is linked to my having the time for it. Not always. There are times when I'm up into the wee small hours and I realize things are going way too slowly and I think, "I can plod along here at eight miles an hour or get some sleep and maybe do sixty in the morning." So off to bed I go…sometimes. Or sometimes I just lie there fidgeting and thinking of what I'll write next…and I do it so long that I finally decide to get up and just write what I'll write next.
Years ago, I read an interview with some writer (forget who) who said he always kept a pad and pencil on his bedside table. That was so if he had a brilliant idea, he could write it down and have it in the morning and not lose it. That sounded logical so even though I couldn't recall ever having such a thought and losing it, I placed a pad and pencil bedside and at the ready. It stayed there for about three nights. I never wrote in it but the feeling that I should be jotting something down was a powerful inducement to remaining awake. It was like taking my work into the sack with me, making me feel like I should still be writing. When I took the pad away, I slept better.
That was at least fifteen years ago and in all the time since, I've never lost a brilliant idea. That's because you can't lose that which you don't have in the first place.